


You're Alive

by TheMightyGhost



Series: Stories [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, King Loki (Marvel), Loki is Alive, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Reunions, Sigrid is a Vanir, mentions of Thanos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 14:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20529485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyGhost/pseuds/TheMightyGhost
Summary: Sigrid goes in search of her presumed dead husband.





	You're Alive

The sky was alive with pinks and purples, the twin suns rising together to form a wondrous spectacle. And yet for all its beauty and wonder, it made her feel nostalgic and sombre. She was homesick, she realised. Travelling the galaxy in search of a man she knew was most likely either dead, pretending to be dead, or ruling a distant planet was not how she envisioned spending the months following the Battle of Earth.

She missed her little cottage in New Asgard. She missed her garden. Her bed. The sea and the sea breeze. Being surrounded by peacefulness. Being useful. She wasn’t exactly useful here, having gone her separate ways from Thor and the Guardians as soon as she came across a suitable ship she had dubbed ‘Wild Mother’, because the ship was dangerously unpredictable at times.

Her brief holiday ended when she was chased out of the planetary orbit by a group of unsettled locals who had caught her bathing in one of their sacred pools. More fool her, of course. She should have known. Still, at least the wash had done some good. She felt a bit more revitalised, and decided to plot a course to Jotunheim. It was a long shot, but she didn’t mind visiting the ancestral home of her great-grandmother Skaði.

Three weeks later she arrived in Jotunheim, her ship shuddering to a halt before dying completely by the shoreline of a frozen lake. Sigrid kicked her way out, wrapping herself up warm, grateful for Bygul being able to shift into the form of a larger feline so she could ride him to the nearest settlement. He had been her faithful familiar since her childhood, when she had first started learning how to wield seiðr. 

She doubted the Jötnar would be able to repair the ship (she really shouldn’t have stopped off on that moon to investigate the strange readings which turned out to be strange bat-like creatures who nearly devoured the ship whole before she managed to break free), which would mean resorting to her good old fashioned method of travelling - rift hopping. Which would be immensely difficult without her Norn Stone. Which had last been seen in Odin’s pocket. Whether that Odin was the real Odin or the fake Odin was beside the point, she didn’t have her Norn Stone, so couldn’t easily find rifts.

The Norn Stone absorbed the rift energy and it was through those methods that she had been able to safely traverse the Nine Realms. Now, she was stuck on Jotunheim, and it was bloody freezing cold. Hopefully they would allow her to explain that she was a Vanir and not an Æsir before killing her.

Hopefully.

-

“My liege,” came the curt voice of Greip, one of the twins. “There has been strange sightings on the outskirts of the old Druskvari lands.”

Gjálp, her twin, added, “A large black... cat-like creature. And there were rumours of a witch, uh... and there was a wrecked ship on the bank of Lake Skolda, we’ve already started bringing it to Utgard.”

Loki ran his finger over his lips, mulling over what the twins had told him. “Where was this cat and this witch last seen?” He asked them, casting his crimson eyes upon them.

“On the north eastern border of the Járnviðr, Sire,” Gjálp said. “We received word from one of the old shamans about two hours ago. They’ve sent scouts after them, and they did say the wolves were tracking them.”

Loki nodded slowly, fingers lightly drumming against the staff he was grasping. “Do you believe this witch is coming to Utgard?” He asked the twins.

“Presumably yes, Sire,” answered Greip, the slightly smaller twin, whose red braided hair bobbed up and down as she nodded. “Although, why would this witch travel into the heart of Jotunheim? Especially now the Casket has been returned.”

“Perhaps they mean to steal it,” Loki mused, smirking slightly. “Or perhaps this witch is simply looking to petition for mercy and beg for us to rebuild their ruined craft. Greip, have a room set up near mine, where it is warmest. If we are to be receiving visitors, I shall at least strive to be the perfect host.”

As soon as the twins fled, with Gjálp’s mission to go to the watchtower and keep a lookout for the witch and Greip occupied with playing the informant, Loki rose from the elegantly carved throne he had personally commissioned (the ice throne was tacky to say the least) and took out the chain on which he kept his golden wedding ring. He rubbed at the cold metal, frowning slightly. He squashed down the faint bit of hope, knowing deep down that his wife was dead, that Thanos himself had murdered her before he had murdered (or tried to murder) Loki. She had been impaled by a spear, bleeding out... 

He closed his eyes and shook his head to try and dispel the image.

His wife was dead. He had seen her die. And yet... he was still alive. And his wife was clever, more clever than he was, and she was tough. She had the constitution of the Vanir in her, she could endure so much. Maybe... No. Better to keep his hope squashed down.

-

She knew they were being watched and she knew they were being followed. Hunted. But she continued onwards, towards the great Jötunn city. It struck her that something was different from the last time she was on Jotunheim (when she had been foraging for special lichen for her maladies and tonics). There was something... renewed about the land around her. Something revitalised. Something...reborn.

They had the Casket. Which meant - did that mean...? Was he...?

She tried to keep her expectations low.

The great gates of Utgard were open, with Jötnar of varying shapes and sizes lining the streets observing her. She paid no attention to them, continuing onwards towards the Keep, towards where the new sovereign ruler would be.

The architecture was a hodgepodge of crumbling ruins and very newly made structures, the stones of varying grey and blue shades which looked beautiful and elegant whilst retaining the rough hardness most associated with the Frost Giants. The road beneath Bygul’s paws seemed newly refurbished, and there were blue snowdrops lining the sides. It was almost a winter wonderland. With the mountains soaring above and the blue sky and the white clouds, with the moon a prominent feature in the sky, and the sound of life coming from all corners. Jotunheim was beginning to thrive once again. It was being reborn.

Bygul came to a shuddering halt outside the gates of the Keep, four large, imposing Frost Giants pointing their spears at the pair.

“Halt!” One shouted in the Old Tongue.

“I seek an audience with your sovereign,” Sigrid quickly said in the Old Tongue. That seemed to impress the four guards enough for them to lower their weapons.

“State your name,” the same giant said.

“Sigrid Bragidottir Of Vanaheim, the great-granddaughter of Skaði.”

The four giants glanced at one another. “Druskvari?” A second one said.

“Descended from the line of Járnsaxa, the Jewel of Jotunheim herself,” Sigrid declared.

The guards huddled together, whispering to themselves before the first giant said, “What business do you seek with the sovereign?”

“Well...” She dismounted off of Bygul rather inelegantly. “I am hoping that your liege is my presumed dead husband.”

-

Gjálp came charging into the throne room as though her backside was on fire. “King Loki! King Loki! The witch is here! The witch is here! I saw her! I saw her!”

Loki held his hand up for silence. “Where is she now?” He asked the giantess.

“She is being escorted into the Keep, my liege. Should I call for the council or for the guards-”

“No. I wish to see this witch in private.”

Gjálp dutifully left, disappointed by not being able to greet the witch upon her arrival. Loki remained on his throne, alone in the chamber, eyes fixed on the large doors.

When they swung open, he braced himself, adjusting his hold on his staff, maintaining his regal expression. Four large Frost Giants stepped aside to reveal a bulking mass of black fur coated in a thin layer of white snow, the creature forced to wait outside by one of the guards. Loki didn’t care about that interaction; his eyes had found the witch.

Her golden blonde hair was in a loose, messy braid. She wore a blue cloak trimmed with white fur. The hood was down, exposing her rosy cheeks and glistening blue eyes, which were darting about the chamber taking it all in, gaze lingering on the pedestal upon which the Casket sat (or a replica- Loki had the real one on him at all times). Her eyes drifted over onto him, betraying nothing.

“Leave,” He said to the four guards, who dutifully bowed before leaving. As soon as the doors crashed shut behind them, he rose to his feet, tossed the staff aside, and ran to his wife.

She met him halfway, the force of the impact threatening to make them fall over. Her arms latched onto him as he lifted her off her feet, holding her as tightly as possible, breathing in and out slowly, taking her all in.

“You’re alive...” he whispered, “You’re alive...”

He carried her over to the throne and sat her down on it. He touched her face, touched her neck, her shoulders, pushing the cloak aside for that. He touched her cold hands and her thighs and her knees and the boots she was wearing. He spread her legs so he could kneel between them, pushing up the front of her woollen tunic to expose her stomach, searching for any evidence of the grievous wound he had seen her receive.

There was a faint scar if he squinted, but that was it. “I believed you to be dead,” he said hoarsely. He leaned forward and kissed the scar. “I would have found you... if I had known...”

“You have done good,” she said, “Jotunheim is thriving once again. You should be very proud of yourself, Loki.”

“It was... the only way I could survive.” Loki lowered her tunic and laid his head upon her lap, letting her stroke his hair, sighing at the familiar sensation. “But over time, my prejudice lessened... there are good people here, Sigrid. There is Fárbauti, one of the old Mothers, there is Býleistr and Helblindi, my chief advisors and my older half brothers. There are the twins, Gjálp and Greip, who I think you will like very much. If I had known... about all of this... growing up...”

“I know,” she said softly, “But what matters now is that you are here making a difference. And you are already a better King than Odin could ever hope to have been.”

Loki smiled tremulously. “Oh, I have missed you so, my queen.”

Sigrid returned his smile with her own. “And I have missed you too, my king.”

  
  



End file.
